


up the rebel county

by the_names_of_those_who_love_the_lord



Category: The Young Offenders (TV)
Genre: Boyfriends?, Enemies to, F/M, M/M, Not Lovers, and they probably don't know ao3 exists, as usual I must write the only fic for a fandom about three other people on the planet are in, i can't believe i have to do everything myself around here, it will be very cute I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26577613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_names_of_those_who_love_the_lord/pseuds/the_names_of_those_who_love_the_lord
Summary: Mairéad chopped the head off a salmon so hard that tiny shards of bone pinged off the counter. "Boys, will ye listen to yourselves? He's just trying to make some money for the summer holidays."Conor shot a glare across at Gavin Madigan, who was handing a box of cream cakes to a customer and so did not notice. "Naw, Mam. He's up to something."Jock grunted in agreement. "Yah. Something evil, probably."
Relationships: Conor MacSweeney/Gavin Madigan, Conor MacSweeney/Linda Walsh, Jock O'Keefe/Siobhan Walsh, Mairéad MacSweeney/Sgt. Tony Healy
Comments: 9
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

Mairéad chopped the head off a salmon so hard that tiny shards of bone pinged off the counter. "Boys, will ye listen to yourselves? He's just trying to make some money for the summer holidays."

Conor shot a glare across at Gavin Madigan, who was handing a box of cream cakes to a customer and so did not notice. "Naw, Mam. He's up to something."

Jock grunted in agreement. "Yah. Something evil, probably."

The date? Third of June. The location? The English Market. The situation? Gavin had just started a new job in the bakery opposite the fishmonger's. 

Conor began to debone a trout, keeping a narrowed eye on Gavin all the while. Mairéad whapped him on the back of the head.

"Watch what you're doing, ya fuckin' ape!"

He flipped her off when she turned to help a customer and went on butchering the fish, scowling. Jock sidled over, his hands shoved in the front pocket of his apron. 

"Give us your analysis, Con," he muttered, jutting his chin at their enemy.

Conor thought for a moment, the knife hovering above the mauled trout. "Maybe he's tryin' to get close to us because we've got something he wants."

"And he's planning to grab it off us when we're not looking," Jock agreed. "But what do we have?"

Conor shrugged and went back to hacking at the trout. Scales flecked his hands. Jock nudged him.

"Man, you look like a mermaid."

"Wha?"

Jock pointed at his silvered fingers. Conor held them up to catch the light. They both laughed. From the corner of his eye, Conor saw Gavin staring at them, his eyes wide and hard, his mouth pressed into a line.

* * *

Five o'clock came. The boys took off, leaving Mairéad to push a trolley around Tesco for the next forty-five minutes and curse them beneath her breath. They were at the shifting bench by ten past the hour. The girls were waiting for them.

"Hey," Linda said, smiling at Conor. 

Siobhán, who had been holding Star, thrust her at her sister. "Here, mind her for a minute, will you?" She stood up and stomped down the hill to the green below without waiting for an answer. Jock's face fell.

"Fucksake," he muttered. He followed after his girlfriend, grinding his teeth.

Deflated, Conor ambled over to the bench and sat beside Linda. She slung a consoling arm around him.

"What's the problem there?" he asked, leaning into her shoulder. Star grumbled in commiseration.

Linda shrugged. "It's Siobhán, like. She's been cooking all day. Could be anything."

Conor snuggled up against her. "God, I'm so happy I got the nice one." Linda laughed and kissed him on top of his head.

He hooked her hands underneath Star's armpits and gently levered her onto his lap. "Hi, young wan. How's it going?" The baby stared at her godfather uncomprehendingly, her fist in her mouth. 

"Is she still teething?"

"Yeah. Fucking nightmare." Linda turned to the buggy parked beside the bench and dug around in the lower compartment; at length, she produced a rubber ring and gave it to Star to chew. "She stays awake all night crying. That might be why Siobhán's in such pissy form."

"Maybe she wants Star to stay with us for a few days," Conor suggested, jogging the child on his knee. "For a break, like."

"Yeah, maybe." Linda paused for a moment. "Listen, Con, remember that thing we talked about the other day?"

"Yah." Conor kept jogging Star, staring out at the city.

"I really, really want to do the Law Plus degree. I'll be able to get a language and go abroad. It's what I've wanted to do since third year." She squeezed his hand. "Now that the Leaving Cert is over, I think there's a chance I might get it."

"You might not have," Conor replied, turning his head. "What if you failed a subject or something?"

Linda didn't say anything for a moment. She let go of his hand and watched Jock and Siobhán on the green. They were having an animated discussion, but it hadn't descended into a shouting match, which was unusual. Eventually, she murmured, "I'd come home on weekends, and you could come up to visit me whenever you liked."

"Wouldn't be the same, though."

Linda huffed and took Star back. Conor crossed his arms and waited for Jock to make his way back up the hill.

Below, the couple suddenly flew into one another's arms and kissed furiously. Conor grunted and looked at his shoes. Jock bounded back up the slope and plonked down beside him. 

"Well, that's sorted," he said, grinning. Then he saw the look on Conor's face. "Here, what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing." Conor stood up. "Let's go."

Jock raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"

"Yah, I'm sure!" 

"Jesus, alright. Let me say hi to my daughter first." Jock swooped down and lifted Star up high; for the first time that day, she giggled. "Who's my baby? Who's my little baby girl?" He kissed her extravagantly on her nose. "I'll be seein' you soon, alright? Be good for Mammy." He gave Siobhán a peck on the cheek and galloped after Conor, who had already started for home.

"What the fuck is your problem?" he demanded.

"Linda's going away to college in Limerick," Conor growled. "She's abandoning me, man!"

"Oh." Jock's tone softened. "Con, you know she'd never do that. You and Linda are -" He laced his fingers together and locked them tight. " _Simpatico,_ you know? The girl's mad about you."

Conor grunted. "What was wrong with Siobhán, anyway?"

"She said she feels lonely," Jock explained, as they squeezed through a stile and walked along the path behind their estate. "The night the Leaving Cert finished, Linda went out with all their friends and she had to stay home, because Star had that bug and she didn't want to leave her. She hasn't had a night out in months. So, we agreed that I'd take her out to the big club night this Saturday to make up for it."

"So, who's gonna mind the baby?"

Jock slowed his pace. His expression became somewhat inscrutable. "Ah. Well, you see, Con, her parents are going out that night too. Anniversary and all that."

"So get Linda to do it." Conor gave a pebble a vicious kick; it bounced into the undergrowth.

"Sure, Linda's coming out with us." Jock paused. "Which leaves you."

"Me?" Conor stared at Jock in horror. "I don't know anything about looking after a baby! She'll die!"

"She won't die, don't say that! Look, I can mind her no problem and I'm a pure fuckin' eejit." Jock rapped his shorn cranium. "There's literally nothing going on in here and I do fine. You'll be grand, trust me."

Conor opened his mouth to retort, but something caught his eye. A figure watched them at the far end of the path, leaning up against the wall. Conor's stomach clenched.

"Jock," he muttered, "look at that prick up there."

"Who?" Then Jock saw him too. "Ah, fucksake."

"What do we do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do we wait for him to come down to us?"

"Naw, boy, we'll never get anywhere, he's not gonna budge."

"But we'll look like bitches if we go up to him!"

"No, we won't. Anyway, I want to get home. I'm too tired for this shit."

They ambled up the path, looking from side to side. When they pulled up beside Gavin fifteen minutes later, they didn't acknowledge him, but they did stop.

"Boys," Gavin said. His eyes glinted with quiet malice.

"Fuck do you want?" they replied, simultaneously.

Gavin's mouth twitched. "I'm waiting for the others."

"What others?" Conor stepped forward. "You've got no friends, remember?"

Gavin slid off the wall. "Say that again, boy." His eyes were like pale shells in wet sand.

Conor took a step forward. Jock got between them and held them apart - "It's not worth the hassle, Con." They glared at one another. Gavin glanced at them both, spat on the pavement, hopped over the wall, and headed into the estate.

"That's twice today we've seen that prick," Conor said, watching his retreating back. "He's following us."

"I don't think him having a job across from the fishmonger's counts as following us," Jock replied. "But you're right. Something's definitely up."

"Here, d'ya think he wants, I dunno, revenge or something? Over the boxing match that you won?"

Jock nodded. "That could be it. He must've lost a load of money betting on that other gowl." He smiled at the memory. "Well, he's not getting nothing from us, boy."

"The next time we see him," Conor agreed, "I'll deck him."

Jock rolled his eyes. "Right."

"You're not the only one in town who can fight!"

"No, I'm not, but you're, like, the only one in town who _can't_ fight."

Conor swatted him. Jock batted him away easily. Cackling, they continued on into the estate. The brooding sky let down a threatening spatter of droplets, and they picked up speed, cantering the last fifty feet to the house.

* * *

"No," Mairéad said. "No, no, no. I'm terribly sorry, Jock, but it's not happening. I have plans for Saturday night."

"And they're more important than my plans? This is bullshit!" Jock stalked off to the room he shared with Conor. A door slammed.

"What do you have goin' on, Mam?"

Mairéad did that thing with her face that meant she didn't especially want to tell him something. "Oh. Y'know. I have an arrangement."

Conor gave her an arch look. "With that prick Sergeant Healy?"

"It's his birthday. Don't call him that. He'll be a member of this family come September."

"Yeah, I know! I'm just getting the last bit of mileage out of it." Conor sat opened the fridge, saw nothing in there that he liked, closed it, and opened it again just to make sure. "See, Jock and Siobhán were really looking forward to their night out. But you're really looking forward to yours, too. Why don't the both of me head out?"

"Because you're too big an eejit to be trusted with a baby by yourself," Mairéad replied, shucking some frozen chicken fillets onto a roasting tray. "Don't fill up on shite, dinner will be ready soon. If you're not doing anything important, you can grate a couple of carrots."

Sighing, Conor grabbed the pack of carrots from the vegetable drawer. "But Mam, it'll only be for a few hours. All I'd have to do is hold her the right way up. Maybe give her some baby food. We can watch TV together or something. You'll get to go out and Jock will get to go out. Everybody will be happy."

Mairéad began chewing her thumbnail. Conor waited.

"If I left you the phone number of the restaurant," she said slowly, "and you wouldn't take her outside or anything...."

"I promise."

"....Alright."

* * *

Saturday night found Conor staring at his godchild in her bouncer.

The others had been gone for an hour, but he wasn't bored. Star was the greatest entertainment in the world. She reminded him of those toys he used to see advertised when he was small, the ones that could do basically everything. He tapped her little nose, and she squinted in annoyance. He tickled the sole of her foot, and she snorted and kicked. 

"You're amazing," he told her. She blinked and chewed on her fist. 

The doorbell rang. Conor got up to answer it. When he saw who was standing on the front step, he closed the door so fast that the house shook. 

"Aw, c'mon," Gavin said from outside. "Let us in, will you."

"No fuckin' way!" Conor leant his back against the door, wishing he had the keys handy. "You're not getting any money off me!" A thought struck him. "Or the baby!"

"Money? A baby? The fuck are you on about?"

"I'm just saying, you're not getting back the money you lost at the boxing match, and you're not getting Jock's little girl!"

"I didn't know Jock had a little girl," Gavin replied. "And I'm not cross over that, it's in the past." His tone became rough with some rueful, bitter feeling. "I should've known better than to bet against him. He would always beat me in playfights when we were youngfellas."

A moment passed. Conor opened the door a smidgen.

"If you even look at me funny, I'm calling my mam."

"I won't look at you funny."

"Her boyfriend's a guard."

Gavin snickered. 

Conor let him in.

* * *

When they came into the sitting room, Star chirruped and waved her arms. Gavin's eyes widened.

"Oh, come here to me." He glanced at Conor. "Can I pick her up?"

Conor shrugged. Gavin knelt down, undid the straps on the bouncer, and gently extracted the baby. He held her so that she was comfortably perched on his arm and said, "You are so like your daddy."

"So." Conor made to lean against the arm of the sofa, but slowly transitioned to sitting on it. "Whaddaya want?"

Gavin chucked Star beneath her slimy chin. "Give us some kitchen towel."

"Kitchen towel's too rough. There's supposed to be baby wipes in the bag beside you."

Gavin fished around in the changing bag Siobhán had left, and pulled out a pack of wipes. Mopping Star's face, he said, "It's not fair for you to have Jock all to yourself."

"What the fuck," Conor replied flatly. 

Gavin pinned him with a look of deranged sincerity. "He was my best friend in the whole world for ten years. Now I don't have anyone to hang out with, and you get to go around with him all the time. I want to work out a timeshare agreement."

Conor stared at him. "Give us that baby. You're too much of a fuckin' lunatic to be holding her."

Gavin grimaced, but he passed Star to him nonetheless and sat on the opposite end of the couch. "I'm just sayin', boy, you can't be hogging him all the time. We don't have to be competing with each other. It wouldn't even have to be fifty-fifty."

"Woah, woah, woah." Conor held up his fingers. "One, you can't hog a person. It's not like, I dunno, a toy I have that you want to play with. Two, Jock doesn't even like you anymore, because you stole the lighter that said I was Star's godfather and you trained that prick what made shit of the estate for the boxing match. Three...." He looked up, embarrassed. "Okay, I don't actually have a third reason, but the first two should be good enough." He suddenly remembered. "Oh, wait. You got us expelled. There you go."

Gavin drew his lips from his teeth like a dog. "Jock _does_ like me. Take it back."

Conor snorted. "Boy, believe me, he hates you. You showed your true colours and he saw you for what you really were. And do you know what that was?"

Gavin's face paled. Jerking his chin at Star, he managed to force the words, "Better put her where she won't get hurt."

Star was hastily delivered back into her bouncer, where she began to grizzle in complaint. Conor straightened up, squared his stance, and said, "You know what you are, Gavin? A fuckin' ratboy. It's all you'll ever be to him."

Gavin screamed and sprang up from where he was sitting. He hurled himself at Conor, who grabbed the collar of his hoodie and tried to pull him away. As they grappled, Gavin shrieked a stream-of-consciousness rant directly into Conor's right eardrum: "I know Jock better 'n you - we were friends right from Junior Infants - he'd never say that - you're lying - you dirty little bastard, trying to drive us apart -"

"Shut up, ya headcase!" Conor managed to shove Gavin back onto the couch. He landed with a _whuff,_ winded. "Fucksake, my ear. If I get tinnitus, I'm suing the absolute balls off of you."

Gavin's face crumpled. His shoulders heaved. He curled in on himself and emitted the kind of glass-cracking whine that precedes a really good cry. Bereft in her bouncer, Star began to howl, too. Conor looked from one to the other, wondering whom he should try to calm down first. He picked Star. Jogging her in his arms, he looked down at Gavin and said, "Look, man, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said the very true thing that I said." He paused. "You've gotten way worse at fighting since that time out by the bonfire spot."

"You had the advantage." Gavin gave an almighty sniff and wiped his swollen eyes. "And you have the advantage with Jock, too. How'm I supposed to be friends with him if you're always there?"

Conor sat down a little closer to Gavin than he had previously. "Don't you have anybody of your own? What about that JP fucker?"

Gavin shook his head. "He doesn't want to be friends with me no more. Said I should've told him Jock's secret moves."

"He sounds like a prick."

Gavin shrugged. He held out his arms. Conor hesitated, but then he thought better of it and slid across Star. She reclined on Gavin's lap, plucking at the drawstrings of his hoodie and mumbling crossly. 

"A little baby," Gavin croaked. He stroked her downy cheek, and looked up. "I know I treated you like shit that day at school. I wanted things to be the way they always were. Nobody else ever chose me the way Jock did." He managed to crack a grim, bleary smile. "I bet it's the same for you, isn't it? No-one sees you the way he sees you."

"Yeah," Conor admitted, scratching behind his ear. 

"I don't want to fight you, Conor," Gavin said. He held out his little finger for Star to grasp. "You've as much a right to Jock as I do. Just give me a chance with him. A friendship like that can't end the way it did. There's got to be a way to make him like me again."

Conor considered this as he watched Star attempt to bite off a chunk of her prize with her budding incisors.

"Give me some time to think about it," he decided. 

Gavin nodded. "Meet us next Tuesday after work. And...." He leaned in. "Jock doesn't have to know about this, right?"

Conor leaned back a fraction. "I suppose not. Now, get out of here before my mam comes back and bates the head off ya."

When the others came back that night, they were pleasantly surprised to find Star still alive and with all her limbs still attached. Conor caught her eye as she leant up against her mother's shoulder, chewing on her hair. The baby gave him a baleful look that seemed to say, _You little fucker. Just wait 'til I learn to talk._

Conor kissed her on her nose and whispered that she was the soundest eight-month-old in the county.


	2. Chapter 2

Tuesday arrived, as it so often did. At a quarter to four, Conor took Jock to one side and said, "Listen, don't wait for me after work, will you?"

"What?" Jock stared at him. "Why not?"

Conor glanced over both shoulders and grimaced. "I'm eh, meeting up with Linda. You know, to try and sweet-talk her after what happened the other day."

"Sure, I'll come with you. For moral support, like."

"Look, I think it'll go better if it's just me and her."

Jock knitted his brows. "What, does she not like me anymore?"

"No! God, no, that's not it at all. It's just...." Conor put his hand on Jock's shoulder. "I think she'll take me more seriously if I turn up by myself, not leaning on anybody. She needs to see that I'm mature enough to handle her goin' away to Limerick."

"Oh!" Jock's freckly face split into a grin. "Smart plan, boy. Very smart. Show her that you're a proud, independent young man. I like that."

"Here," Mairéad barked, "are you pair just gonna stand there touching each other, or are ye actually gonna do the work ye're paid for?"

The boys glowered at her and went to get the cloths and disinfectant to clean the counters. As Conor scrubbed the formica, he sensed something flickering at the periphery of his vision. He looked up, and caught Gavin sweeping the floor of the bakery and throwing quick, nervous glances in his direction. Conor nodded, once. Gavin gave him a tight smile and turned his back on him.

* * *

Five o'clock came. Jock got a call from Siobhán that made him smirk and snicker; he hung up, wished Conor luck, and vanished. Mairéad informed her son that if he wasn't back at the house by half-six, she would give his dinner to the duck.

"He can't eat chicken," he reminded her. "It'd be like us eating an orangutan."

"Get back home in time and he won't have to," Mairéad replied, and left him in the doorway of the English Market.

Conor sighed and sloped back in. Gavin didn't hear him coming; he was in the storage room at the back of the shop, untying his apron. Conor rested against the counter and watched him. It felt strange to see him absorbed in something that harmless. Conor was suddenly confronted with the thought that Gavin was a _person,_ with thoughts and agendas that did not always revolve around ruining other people's lives. The realization flustered him, and he faked a cough to get his enemy's attention.

Gavin turned around. His expression was reassuringly sinister. "Hi, Tom."

"You know what my name is."

"I'm only messin' with ya." Gavin hung up his apron and vaulted the counter. "Jock gone home?"

"Yeah." Conor glared at him. "Fuck you for making me lie to him. I haven't made my mind up yet, you know."

"But here you are." Gavin nudged him with his shoulder. "Let's not talk about it here. Come onto the street with me."

Conor followed him out onto the main thoroughfare. They sauntered along, weaving between the late-afternoon shoppers, keeping a courteously uncivil distance from one another. Admittedly, Conor was the one putting the most work into staying apart. Gavin became frustrated.

"Boy, will you come here? How am I supposed to make my case when you're on the other fucking side of town?"

"No!" Conor snapped. "I don't want people knowing I'm hanging out with you!"

Gavin made a noise of exasperation and veered right. He threw an arm around Conor's shoulders and held onto him. "There. Now there's no getting away from me." He lowered his voice. "So, did you have a think about what I said?"

"Yeah, and I decided it was bullshit," Conor retorted, attempting to wriggle away from him. "Jock's not something I own that you can borrow. He made up his mind about you when you let me take the fall for stealing your mother's purse. There'd be no point in working out a fuckin' custody agreement. He hates your guts, boy."

Gavin frowned and broke away. The weight of his arm remained, phantomlike. "I can fix it. Just give me a chance with him."

Conor looked at him, radiating unhappiness, and was surprised by the pity he felt for his adversary. "Alright."

Gavin's eyes lit up. "Really? So you'll let me talk to him?"

"I wasn't stopping you in the first place." Conor pulled out his phone. "Give us your number. I'll let you know when he's heading out with his girlfriend. Catch him then and he might listen to you."

Gavin bounded towards him and spat out his digits, his fingers drumming the air with nervous intensity. Then he turned away without saying goodbye and walked away, head down, his hands in his pockets.

Conor watched him go, and was sorry for him.

* * *

Gavin's big chance came that Saturday. Once again, Jock and Siobhán were set to go club-hopping. Mairéad was much happier to take advantage of Conor's babysitting services, and had already slipped out with Sgt. Healy. When Siobhán came to drop off Star, Linda was with her.

"Why are you avoiding me?" she demanded.

"I'm not avoiding you," Conor replied, not looking at her. 

"Is it about me going to Limerick? I thought you'd be more grown-up about this, Conor."

He suddenly remembered that he was supposed to have cleared this up back on Tuesday. Jock had been distracted by his tryst with Siobhán at the time and had forgotten to ask how the fake meeting had turned out, but if he were to overhear her now, he would smell a rat. Conor shifted Star onto his hip and gabbled, "No, no, no!"

Linda gave him an odd look.

"Well....what I mean is...." He took a deep breath. "Linda, I was being a prick. You have the right to go wherever you want for college. If going to UL is what you need to do, then I'll support you. It's just...." A lump grew in his throat. "I'm gonna miss ya something rotten." 

Without warning, Linda threw her arms around him and crushed him into a hug. Star, caught in the crossfire, squawked in displeasure. 

"Aw, Conor," she murmured into his shoulder. "I didn't know how you felt about it. You must've thought I was being a right bitch."

"I didn't," Conor protested, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

"I'll miss you, too," Linda told him, her voice muffled by his hoodie. "So much. But we have the whole summer ahead of us." She drew back and laughed at Star. "Aw, lovie, I'm sorry I squashed you." She kissed Conor on the forehead. "Meet us tomorrow at the cinema. My treat."

"I'd love that," Conor replied, sniffing back his tears. 

Siobhán and Jock appeared. Jock pulled him to one side and muttered, "You must've done well on Tuesday, boy."

Conor forced himself to grin. "Oh, yeah. She saw the adult me, as it were. I showed her that I don't need to have her around the whole time."

Jock bumped their fists together in triumph and stepped forward. "Alright, ladies!" he crowed. "We've got the best babysitter in Cork mindin' the best baby in the world, so there's no bother on us!"

They trotted off up the road, with Linda twisting around to blow Conor a kiss. He caught it with a wan smile and shut the door.

A moment later, he remembered Gavin. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and composed a text to him:

**jock n the girls headin 2 d bowery just left the gaff might catch em at d bus stop**

A minute later, he got a reply.

**tnx ur sound**

He put his phone back in his pocket and silently wished Gavin luck.

* * *

Unfortunately, Conor's wish just wasn't lucky enough. Half an hour after he'd sent the text, the doorbell rang. He carefully propped Star up against a cushion and got up to answer it, thinking that one of the others had left something behind.

Instead, he found Gavin, stoop-shouldered and wrathful.

"Fuck's wrong with you, boy?" he asked. 

"What d'ya think?" Gavin spat. 

Conor leaned against the doorframe. "I guess Jock didn't take you back."

Gavin's eyes flared with anger. "He bauled me out in front of half of Cork!" He jabbed a finger in Conor's direction. "You set me up!"

Conor frowned. "How?"

"You told him I was gonna try and get him to be my friend again, didn't you?"

"Swear to God, boy, I didn't." Conor put his hands up in front of him as though to ward Gavin off. "I never said nothing. I knew how important it was to you."

The rage animating Gavin left him like water running from a cupped hand. He sighed and cast a weary glance over his shoulder. The sky was low and purple with a rainstorm, and he was only wearing a t-shirt and shorts in the muggy heat. "I suppose you're busy," he said, too tired to wheedle.

Conor stepped aside. "C'mon. They won't be back for ages." 

Gavin nodded his thanks and sloped in. Conor headed back into Star, who was chewing on the remote. 

"Jesus, don't do that." He extracted it, fished around in the changing bag, and found her teething ring. She took with an air of embittered appeasement.

"Now, here's someone who'll be happy to see me." Gavin crouched down and tickled Star on her round tummy. She gummed her ring and swatted at him. He laughed and sat back on his heels. "Do you think this is a good idea?"

Conor sprawled on the couch and flicked through the channels. "I think this whole thing was a bad idea from the start. You didn't kill her the last time you held her, did you?"

"No," Gavin replied, letting Star grab his thumb and bring it dangerously close to her drooling mouth.

"Sit down here so. There might be something we can watch while it rains."

"Check if there's a movie on RTÉ."

"That's what I'm doing!"

"Alright, alright....oh, Pulp Fiction!"

"I never heard of it. Is it any good?"

"Are you shittin' me? It's meant to be one of the best films ever made. It's directed by what's-his-face, the fella with the foot fetish."

"Tarantino? We'll watch that, so."

Conor switched it on. It was at the diner scene. Gavin glanced at Star and said, "I'll cover your eyes when it gets inappropriate." At that moment, the storm broke outside. The air coming through the open window became cool and pleasant. Star reclined against Gavin's chest like a Roman emperor. Half an hour in, Conor made them both popcorn. They didn't talk. The rain spattering outside left no room for words.

Conor looked at him now and then as the night wore on, only faintly uneasy about what they would do if the weather didn't improve. Gavin was a lot easier to look at when he wasn't sneering, or smirking, or training the all-Ireland boxing champion to put Jock in traction. It got dark outside, the sun setting like a tide going out, and the three of them were lit by the flickering coloured light of the television. Star fell asleep.

The film ended at a quarter to midnight, just as the rain was petering out. Gavin stood, stretched, and said, "Thanks for letting me stay over."

"No problem." Conor eyed him. "Here, what did Jock say to you earlier?"

Gavin dropped his arms and looked at him with renewed, blank-eyed hostility. "Same stuff he said to me last time, only louder, and in front of his girlfriend."

"Oh." Conor fiddled with his sovereign ring. "I'm sorry."

Gavin didn't give the usual reply, that he had nothing to be sorry for. Instead, he said, "Imagine you had a best friend, and then you had to move away and didn't see him for years. And then you came back, but he had a new best friend, and you tried to bring things back to the way they were, but you fucked it up." He swallowed. "And he hated you. And he _told_ you he hated you, and that he never wanted to see you again. How do you think I feel?"

Conor shrugged. "I'd be gutted if it was me."

Gavin stared at him for what felt like a weird length of time. Then, like a sneeze, he announced, "Well, I'm not," and walked out.

Frowning, Conor scooped up his sleeping goddaughter and stroked her fine hair.

"Odd motherfucker," he muttered, watching her fingers twitch as she dreamed.

* * *

He went to the cinema with Linda the next day, and watched the light from the screen dance greenishly on her face in the dark. Later that night, Jock took him out as a thank-you for his babysitting services. They went to the shifting bench with a bag of cans. It was an overcast evening; the sun glowed golden behind the featureless clouds as it set.

"D'you know what happened last night, boy?" Jock said suddenly.

"Tell us."

"Gavin fucking Madigan appeared out of nowhere at the entrance to the estate and begged me to be his friend again."

Conor's stomach convulsed with guilt. Carefully, he said, "Well, I suppose that's why he's been trailing around after us these past few days."

"Yeah." Jock peeled the tab on another can and took a truculent slurp of the contents. "Must've been waiting to make his move. 'Course, I told him where he could shove it. The pure cheek of him, coming up to me like nothing ever happened. If he comes near me again, d'you know what I'll do?"

"....Drill his head in?" Conor suggested, his fingers numb around his can.

"Yeah. Exactly." Jock bared his teeth like a tiger. "I'll absolutely cream him, boy. He won't be able to see in colour for a month."

Conor tapped his fingernails on the aluminum, wishing there was a label he could pick. "Here, when did you and him stop being friends the first time?"

"When he moved away to Kilkenny back in sixth class." Jock peeled a splinter off the bench and flicked it away. "We wrote little letters to each other for the first couple of months, but then we fell out of touch."

"Oh." Conor sipped his drink, barely tasting it. "Here, you know the way he came to school that day, and he still had that photo of ye from when ye were ten?"

"Yeah?" 

"Does that not seem weird?"

"What, like gay weird?" 

Conor's intestines started tying themselves into extravagant bows. "I dunno."

"He's a bit of a bunny-boiler, isn't he? Here, let's talk about something else. I don't care about that prick."

"Right, right." And they changed the subject to soccer. As they talked, Conor told himself that Gavin wouldn't come back. His mission had failed; Conor couldn't help him anymore.

* * *

For the next week, it was as though everything had gone back to normal. At work, Conor avoided looking in the bakery's direction, until he accidentally glanced up one morning and saw only the usual middle-aged woman who ran it. He supposed that the dragging sensation in his chest was relief. He hung out with Jock every day, with Linda and Siobhán joining them in the afternoons. 

On Friday, Linda sent Jock and her sister off with the Walsh household's shopping list and lugged Conor into Homebase.

"Is this, like, part of a public sex fantasy?" Conor asked her, eyeing the beds.

Linda gave him an arch look. "D'you want to say that a bit louder? There's a lad up in the International Space Station who didn't hear you."

"Sorry," Conor whispered. "But seriously, why are we here?"

"Because," Linda replied, running her hand absentmindedly across a rack of curtain samples, "I need to pick up some bedsheets for college. I thought you might like to come."

Conor's thoughts flitted from anger, to sadness, to remembering that he was meant to be over the college thing, to shame, back to anger for a minute, and finally, resolve. "Oh, yeah," he lied. "I'd love to help out."

Linda smiled at him. "You're being so good about this. It'll make actually going away so much easier."

He returned the smile as best as he could. She turned away, distracted by a display of throws, and he tipped his head to the ceiling so that the imminent tears would drain back down his eye ducts.

"Do you think an eiderdown would be too much?" Linda asked him. 

"I dunno." Conor came over to stand by her shoulder. As was his wont, he touched the merchandise liberally.

"Get your slimy, fishy hand off of it." She gave the offending appendage a playful smack. "I don't really need one, but student housing is always freezing. And it's so soft, like."

"I think you should get it." Conor patted it again. "Oh, that's really nice to feel. Definitely get it."

"Alright. I'll have to wash it, though." She folded it and draped it across her arm. They moved on to the bedsheets. As they browsed, Conor could not shake the mental image which every selection helped to build. Linda would leave him at the end of August and go to a distant city. She would sleep in a strange bed, beneath an eiderdown bearing microscopic traces of cod scale. Alone....or maybe not alone. People hooked up in college; there was maybe a law saying you had to. Conor couldn't be going up to Limerick every night to help keep Linda from breaking the law. 

"Here, Linda."

"What's up?"

"You know the way you're going to college?"

She stared at him. "I think I do, yeah."

"D'you...." He twisted a skein of wool in his hands. "D'you maybe want to see other people while you're there?"

"Jesus! No, of course not." She grabbed the wool and smoothed it out. "Don't tell me you're jealous."

"I'm not jealous," he protested. "It's just that everyone else will be hooking up. I don't want you to feel left out. I don't mind, like."

Linda's face softened. She put an arm around him, saying, "God, you are _so_ weird."

He leaned into her. "Seriously, though, it wouldn't bother me."

"Conor, I'll be able to wait for the weekend to have sex with you, don't worry." She gently brushed him away and ambled towards the cushion section. "I wonder should I get a beanbag?"

* * *

"Here," he said, as Linda was paying for the things she had bought. "Are you alright with these?"

She gave him a mild look of inquiry. "Should be. Why?"

"I need to do something in town. Will you tell Jock I'll see him at the house?"

"Sure. But, why don't you meet up with him? I'm calling Linda now."

He bit his lip. "I sort of need to go as soon as possible. The shop closes early on Fridays."

"I see." She kissed him on the cheek. "Don't worry, I'll let him know."

He kissed her back and jogged out of Homebase. Once he was safely out of sight, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked at the message that had pinged his phone right after Linda had gone looking for a beanbag.

**need 2 talk meet me on bridge in town**

"What does that little fucker want?" he muttered to himself. But as soon as he said it, he knew he didn't mean it. His feet set off in the direction of the town centre before he had properly made up his mind about going.

The weather was underwhelming, especially for July - flat acres of cloud overhead, blocking in a vague fog of heat. As he made his way towards the bridge, Conor took off his tracksuit jacket and tied it around his waist. 

The bridge was thronged with people. There was one person standing at the near end as he came down the street. They stood beside the railings, glaring down at the Lee. Conor could see the sticky-out ears from fifty feet away.

"Gavin," he called.

Gavin whipped up his head and saw him; he cantered across the street, drawing complaints from motorists. Without a word, he grabbed Conor's sleeve and pulled him down a narrow side-street.

"Christ!" Conor yelped. He tried to yank away, but Gavin had a grip you wouldn't think baking would give you.

He came to an abrupt stop outside a shuttered shopfront, drew Conor in towards him, and hissed, "IthinkIhaveathingforJock."

"What?"

"IthinkIhave - "

"Slower. Say it slower."

"I think." Gavin licked his lips. "I have." His eyes jerked toward the street as though paranoid someone would hear." A thing. For Jock."

"A thing? For Jock? My friend Jock?"

Gavin nodded tersely, his jaw set. "Yeah. Your friend Jock."

"Like, a _thing_ thing?"

"Yeah."

"Like, _like_ like, like?"

"Yeah."

"God almighty," Conor quavered. He eased himself onto the shopfront's peeling window ledge. "How....how do you know?"

Gavin swallowed. "I just do, alright?"

He sat down beside Conor, rubbing his palms together like a cricket. Conor shuffled in a little closer.

"Don't mind me, man. I'm just in a bit of shock." 

"I know it's weird," Gavin said, addressing the opposite wall. "I know! And it makes what I did the day we were all expelled so fucking creepy. But I can't help it."

"Were you looking at Jock? Y'know, when he got undressed in front of Principal Walsh?"

"Everybody was looking," Gavin snapped, his face flushed to the roots of his hair.

"But were you looking?" Conor pressed.

"He was directly in my line of sight! I couldn't _not_ look at him!"

"But were you actually looking at his naked body?"

"Does it fucking matter if I was?!"

Conor smirked. "Haha, gay."

Gavin eyeballed him irefully. "Really? That's what makes me gay? Watching him take his clothes off two feet away along with everyone else in the school? Not, like, having a crush on him or anything obvious like that?"

"I'm only playin' with you. Very brave of you to tell me, though."

Gavin frowned. "Brave how?"

"I could say it to Jock," Conor replied.

"You can't. Telling him about this would mean you'd have to explain why I trusted you enough to tell you. If he knew I was in the house...." Gavin trailed off meaningfully.

Now it was Conor's turn to frown. "Shit. You're right."

"Mutually-assured destruction," Gavin pointed out. "Neither of us can snitch out the other."

"But you would still have an advantage if you hadn't told me your secret," Conor said. "You could've said it to Jock about me letting you into the house, and he'd have killed me. Why give that away? Forgive me, but it's not your style."

Gavin looked at him in that wide-eyed, furious way of his. "I had to tell someone," he muttered. He sprang off of the ledge and strode out of sight.

* * *

There, Conor thought that night, staring at Jock's snuffling form in the other bed. That's the end of it, for real this time.

Gavin, however, didn't see it that way.

At work, he would wait until Jock's back was turned, then catch Conor's eye and telegraph meaningful hieroglyphics with his appalling eyebrows. Mairéad caught him doing it and asked Conor what the fuck was going on. 

Conor shrugged. "I dunno. It must be part of some messed-up plan of his."

Mairéad glared at the bakery. "D'you want me to go over and sort it out?"

"No, Mam! Leave it. He'll stop if we don't react to him."

Half-twelve was their lunch break. Jock took off like a shot; Conor made to follow him, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He turned, and saw Gavin grinning at him.

"What are you doing?" he hissed. "Stop looking at me funny. Mam's gonna kill you if she catches you again."

"Meet me in the park later," Gavin told him, ignoring everything he had just said. 

"What? No!" Conor pulled away from him. "Game over, man. I can't help you anymore."

"I don't want your help. I just want some company in the park," Gavin said, and slipped away into the crowd.

Conor didn't want to go. But that evening, while Jock and Siobhán were out shopping for new shoes for Star, he found himself knocking around the woodland in Fitzgerald's Park with Gavin at his side, talking about cannoli. Two days later, he could not stop himself from staying out after a date with Linda to follow Gavin's lead through the city, the cloud-thick midnight sky reflecting its light. That weekend, when Jock went to have his hair cut, he strapped Star into her buggy and laughed at Gavin's jokes as they crossed the Shandon bridge. It felt like infidelity, although he couldn't say why. The thought of Jock or anyone else finding out made his brain feel cold, but when his phone lit up, he would set off without fail.

One day, by chance, he, Jock and Gavin found themselves in the doorway of the English Market. It was five o'clock. Jock saw Gavin following behind them and audibly ground his teeth, but they were in a sea of people and there was nothing he could do. When they spilled onto the street, the sky opened. Everyone drew back into the building like a wave backwashing. 

Jock looked like he could feel stones forming in his bladder. Conor carefully looked at the Georgian façade across the street. The rain sheeted down. Someone touched his hand. He glanced down, then followed the intrusion to its source. The index finger tipping his palm was attached via a skinny arm to Gavin's shoulderblade. Conor exhaled in exasperation and stared at the rain.

"Right," said Jock. Conor jerked in surprise; Gavin snatched his hand away. "We're gonna make a run for it, alright?" And they did, galloping into the rain, panicking like deer as they streaked towards Mairéad's car halfway down the street.

"Was that prick bothering you?" Jock panted.

"No," Conor replied, and then, "Fuck, do you have the keys?"

* * *

That evening, watching TV with Jock, his phone buzzed. 

**call me**

"Fucksake," Conor muttered.

"Who is it?" Jock asked, not looking up.

"Linda," Conor lied, despising himself. "I'll go out front."

He got up and went outside to the front garden. It was one of those grayscale summer evenings, not noticeably warm or cold, a thin breeze breathing down from the sky. He hopped up on the wall and rang Gavin, who picked up on the first ring.

"Meet me -"

"No!" Conor snapped. "I'm sorry, Gavin, but I'm out of excuses to give Jock. I'm sick of lying to everybody. We can't hang out anymore."

There was a pause. Conor could picture Gavin's face at that moment.

"So do you not like me anymore?"

Conor sighed. "I wasn't supposed to like you in the first place. I'm saying this because I'm after going back to hating you, though. It's been fun, Gav, but we can't do it any longer. If Jock or anybody else finds out, my life won't be worth living."

Silence. Gavin hung up.

Conor shoved his phone back in his pocket and clunked his heels against the wall. 

Footsteps sounded nearby. They came closer. Conor didn't look up until Gavin stood in front of him and said, "I knew you wouldn't come out to me."

"Jesus!" Conor spun around, expecting to see Jock bursting through the window. Nothing moved inside the house; the sitting-room blinds were drawn. He shuddered in relief and frogmarched Gavin down the road to the laneway behind the estate. 

"What was that shit about earlier?" he demanded. "Just after work."

"Don't know what you're talking about," Gavin replied, his eyes gleaming.

"You touched my hand!" Conor snapped, reddening.

"So what if I did? We were all crushed together, I couldn't help it."

"It was deliberate!" 

Gavin smirked at him and didn't answer. Conor could take it no longer. He grabbed Gavin by the collar of his hoodie and shoved him bodily up against the railings opposite. "Why are you so creepy all the fuckin' time? You're an absolute headwreck, d'ya know that?"

But Gavin only looked pleased, in a flustered sort of way. He put his hands on Conor's clenched fists and said, "Alright, I confess. I knew exactly what I was doing earlier."

Conor got a feeling he was in slightly over his head. "Do _not_ tell me that this has all been another one of your schemes, boy."

"It wasn't -" Gavin stopped and exhaled shakily. He slowly reached for Conor's lapels and tugged him towards him. "Look, don't punch the head off me," he said, and kissed him.

Conor sprang away on instinct. "Jesus!"

"I thought you might say that alright."

Conor thought, _this is the part where I run away and never have anything to do with the mad fucker again,_ but the rest of him did not comply. Every cell in his lungs had turned into a butterfly. He swallowed and said, "Did we not establish that you liked Jock?"

"I know." Gavin gave him a trembly smile. "I'm a bit annoyed at myself."

"We've been spending too much time together."

Gavin took a tentative step forward. "I like hanging out with you, though."

"I think I understand that now," Conor replied sharply.

Gavin took a second, less tentative step. "I never had to twist your arm to come out."

"No," Conor allowed, glancing from left to right for any spectators. They were alone. A drop of warm rain splattered in his cheek. "You're actually nice when you're not being evil."

A third step. Gavin was close enough for Conor to see the green threads in his irises. "I don't bother being nice for everybody, you know." 

"I appreciate the effort."

"It's not an effort with you." 

A lot of things suddenly made sense to Conor in that moment, slotting into place in his brain like square pegs at last finding the square holes. It was like absentmindedly glancing at a 3-D optical puzzle and seeing the hidden image. He understood everything that had happened since the day Gavin showed up at the bakery as a sequence of events, each causing the next. He reached out, cupped Gavin's face with his hands, and kissed him back. He could feel the blood coursing through Gavin's carotid artery under his little finger. It began to rain in earnest; when they finally peeled away from one another, breathing hard, their hair was slicked against their skulls, and their shirts were clammy with damp.

* * *

"Christ," Jock said, amused. "That better have been worth whatever Linda did to you."

"Ah, you know yourself," Conor replied, toeing off his soaked runners. "The things we do for love, like."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it weird that lately I've been writing a lot about teenage boys on the cusp of life changes? Anyway, here's the long-awaited second chapter. Happy Hallowe'en. I swear to God, next time I'm writing about the MCU or something. I'll stay away from obscure slashfic for a long while.


	3. Chapter 3

At twenty to two the following morning, Conor's phone buzzed. He took it out from beneath his pillow and squinted at it. He hadn't slept.

**u up??**

He sighed.

_**ya** _

**me2**

_**obvs** _

**sorry abt earlier**

_**no need 2b sorry** _

**did u like it**

Conor hesitated for a minute.

_**yah** _

_**ur a better kisser den a fiter** _

**lol**

No reply came after that. Conor put his phone back beneath his pillow and went back to staring at the ceiling.

It buzzed again.

**cant stop tinkin abt it**

**i shld charge u rent bc ure in my brain 24 7**

Conor smiled wanly.

_**me neither but not 4 d same reasons as u i tink** _

**why**

_**man ive got a beoir rmembr?** _

**o ya**

**i shifted her 2 its like payback or smth**

**ur grand dw**

**not like were gonna do it again**

**unless u want to**

_**we shdnt** _

**i just realised i hvnt got ne pics of u n me which is stupid if u tink abt it**

Conor groaned. He turned off his phone, shoved it under his bed, and rolled over to face the wall.

* * *

After his sleepless night, he was in a foul mood; even Jock gave him a wide berth at work. At his lunch break, and at Mairéad's suggestion, he stalked into the shopping centre to blow off some steam. As he glared at the mannequins in Lifestyle Sports, a hand closed on his forearm.

He jumped. "Fuck!"

"Take me out to dinner first." It was Gavin.

Conor made a halfhearted attempt to shake him off. "I didn't get any sleep last night over you."

"Mission accomplished, then," Gavin replied. He seized the sleeve of Conor's jacket and pulled him along the concourse towards the passport photo booth. "C'mon, I want pictures with you." 

"Just take them on your phone," Conor complained.

Gavin ignored him. He pushed him into the booth and snapped the curtain shut. Feeding coins into the machine, he said, "I might kiss you, if that's alright." Conor grunted. Once the camera started clicking, though, he turned his face and let Gavin peck him on the lips, twice. There was a feeling inside him like a sped-up video of flowers blooming. His insides were going fluffy with petals.

The photos printed. Gavin examined them and smiled, then tucked them carefully into his pocket. "I'll let you go," he said. He squeezed Conor's hand and vanished out of the booth. 

Back at the fishmonger's, Conor did his work a little better. He apologised to his mother for behaving like a prick. He put on little tableaux with the shrimp to make Jock laugh. The rest of the day went by quickly. Every now and again, Gavin would cut his eyes at him from the bakery, but he didn't pull any tricks to get Conor to notice him when Jock was there. He wasn't an idiot.

* * *

For three days, Conor felt full of light. He didn't mean to. The world insisted on being seen through a golden new-relationship haze without his say-so. Whenever he saw Gavin from across the aisle at the English Market, his heart would speed up. On two separate occasions his mother asked if he was feeling unwell because he couldn't stop blushing. He kept bumping into doorframes. It was ridiculous.

On Friday morning, the sky brooded a purple cloud, and an unseasonably cold breeze blew in from the ocean. The boys were dressing for work when a series of loud thumps resounded through the house.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Jock said. He went to the window and peered out. He started. "It's that bitch Nancy Madigan!"

Conor's heart plunged. He shoved his feet into his shoes and ran out of the room. He flew down the stairs, bulled past his mother, threw open the back door, and flung himself over the nearest wall. 

Two minutes and a mad dash over several other walls later, he found himself at the back of the estate. His side was on fire with a stitch. His phone was ringing. He answered it and panted, "Gavin, what the fuck is your mam doing at my house?"

"She found the pictures."

"Shit."

"I know. I should've taken them on my phone." Gavin swallowed. "I'm sorry, man."

"My mam's gonna kill me. Linda and Jock are gonna kill me." Conor kicked a nearby fence in frustration and sorely regretted it. "Ow."

"Sorry," Gavin said again.

"Don't worry. Listen, where are you?"

"I'm stopped in the middle of cycling over to my dad's place. I don't think she's so angry about me kissing a guy as she is about which specific guy I kissed."

"She _would_ be." Conor glanced at the sky. A fat droplet splashed on his nose. "Listen, it's about to lash down. I'd better go find shelter."

"Good luck," Gavin told him, and hung up.

Thunder rolled overhead. Conor jogged up to a stand of horse chestnuts just as the heavens opened. The rain came down in a shining curtain. He took out his phone again. He had seven missed calls. Like a condemned man offered a choice of executions, he decided to call Linda back first. 

"Conor." She sounded like she had just finished crying. "What the fuck. _What the fuck."_

The guilt which Conor had kept at bay for the previous month crashed onto him all at once. "Jesus, Linda, I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? Is that all you can say?" 

"What would you like me to say? I'd do anything to make this better."

"Go back in time and tell that asshole to fuck off." Linda coughed; her throat sounded raw. "How could you have done this, Conor? If you're gay, then why couldn't you have told me?"

"I'm not gay!" Conor protested. "He was barely a friend until a couple of days ago. I've only kissed him twice since last Friday."

"But _why?_ The fact that he's a boy doesn't make it alright. You must have seen this coming."

"I didn't," Conor protested. Then he thought for a moment. "Although I should have. It sort of built up."

"It built up? What does that even mean?" Linda exhaled. "Look, if I haven't called you by six this evening, it's over. I need time to think about this." Dial tone.

Conor's heart hurt like it had caught on barbed wire. Miserable, he called his mother.

She picked up immediately. "Conor, come home _now."_

"Mam, I can explain -"

She cut him off. "I'm not angry at you, we can sort it out, but Jock is out looking for you and I don't want this whole situation getting any worse."

"Oh! Alright. Thanks for the heads-up." He pulled up his hood and scurried from the shelter of the trees into the torrential rain.

* * *

He slipped through the front door, saturated. People were murmuring in the kitchen. The duck waddled up to him and quacked. Conor shushed him and tickled him beneath his bill. As he edged down the hall, the voices turned into Mairéad and Jock.

"....It's not like he didn't know or anything. I mean, we were there a month ago, and that - that _cunt_ came up to us, and Conor was bauling him out of it the same as I was. Skip a few weeks and they're shiftin' each other on Conor's lunch break." Jock spoke levelly, but much faster than normal. One could almost hear the twitch of the taut muscles of his fists.

"Jock, I don't think he did it specifically to hurt you." This was Mairéad, doing Trojan damage control. "This seems like just another one of those stupid, idiotic things Conor gets himself into without thinking. He didn't mean any harm." In the stony silence that followed, she added, "And that's even if any real harm's been done."

"Linda's having a fuckin' stroke over it," Jock muttered, and then, louder, "Come in, Con. I can see the toe of your shoe."

Conor picked up the duck for emotional support and edged into the kitchen. Jock stared at the table for a moment. Then, he looked up, saw Conor, said, "Actually, fuck this," and strode out the back door. 

Mairéad watched him go, then turned to Conor and said, "Well."

"Well," Conor replied. He sat down. "I'm sorry I brought Nancy Madigan to the house."

"Don't be. She turned up on her own steam, the interfering little cow."

"What'd she say?"

"Nothing worth listening to. I was about the call the guards when she produced _this."_ Mairéad slid the photo strip across the table for Conor's benefit. "Look, Conor, be honest with me. How long has this been going on?"

"Are you angry with me?"

"What? No." She sat down across for him. "It's just that I don't understand. This youngfella got you expelled. He hyped up that boxer to bate the head off Jock. How did you go from hating the sight of him to.... _that?"_

"I dunno....he sort of showed up at the house that night you all went out."

Mairéad raised an eyebrow. "The night we left you alone with Star?"

"Yeah. He turned up at the house all upset 'cos Jock wasn't his friend anymore. I said I'd try and help him out. Then, when Jock told him to fuck off, he just....kept coming back."

"To our house?"

"Yeah. And I'd meet up with him in town and that."

Mairead steepled her fingers. "Let me ask you again: are you gay? Be honest this time."

"No, Mam!" Conor hissed in frustration. The duck quacked in sympathy. "I didn't plan for it to turn out like this. It just....happened. I love Linda, honest to God. I don't want to lose her over Gavin."

Mairéad gave him a look of manifest compassion. "You really don't think these things through, do you?"

At that moment, Jock appeared in the back doorframe like an avenging angel. "Did you let that prick in the house?"

"....Yeah," Conor admitted.

"With _my_ baby?"

"Yeah," Conor replied, suddenly feeling a little defiant.

Jock thumped the table with his fist. Mairéad's cup jumped and spilled a little. "That's enough, Jock!"

"I trusted you!" Jock yelled. "And you put that little creep in the same room as Star!"

"She was alright when you came home, wasn't she?" Conor stood up with such force that his chair toppled backward onto the linoleum. "Come on, Jock. If things had been any different, it would've been _him_ babysitting your daughter. The bench up above the city would still be Jock and Gavin's bench. How did the day we got expelled start out? We were literally fighting for your attention. You didn't even notice!" The fury leached out of Jock's face. Conor made himself hold eye contact. "I'm sorry I lied to you. I know how you feel about Gavin. But I don't think you realise how much you still mean to him. Or me. Or anybody! We would all die for you, Jock. Would you ever cop on to that?"

He turned on his heel and headed out.

* * *

It was only when the local children started pointing at him that he realised that he was still holding the duck. He cursed beneath his breath and wondered what the hell he was going to do. Then, he had a brainwave.

"Conor? Are you still alive?"

"More or less. Listen, does your dad live anywhere handy?"

"Not very, but I can meet you near your place. What's up?"

"I need you to mind my duck."

"Oh." Gavin sounded equal parts doubtful and intrigued. "Is that, like, code for something?"

"No. I left my house in a temper and I didn't realise I was still holding our rescue duck. Can you come out and take him off me? I'm going to try and patch things over with my girlfriend and it won't help if I turn up with this fella." The duck peeped in agreement.

"Oh, God. Yeah, don't worry. I'm on my way to the estate." Gavin hung up. Ten minutes later, he showed up on his bike, pedaling gamely. 

"What's the story?" he asked, extending his bony fist for a bump. "Never thought I'd end up as a ducksitter. Give that feathered fucker to us." Conor handed over his pet and stood back, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Gavin admired the duck for a moment; then, he tucked him beneath his arm and asked, "So, how's it going for you?"

Conor glowered at the ground. "Not great, boy."

Gavin grunted in commiseration. "My mam flipped."

"My mam was actually alright," Conor groused, aiming a kick at a pebble. "But Jock was like a bull."

"Yeah, no, I'd say he has a right," Gavin replied, tickling the duck beneath its wing. The little fowl clacked its bill in irritation. "He hates my guts." He gave Conor a guilty look. "It's my fault. I got you into this mess."

"I went along with it," Conor told him. "But I don't think we should do it anymore. I just....look, no offence, but I'm in love with Linda. I mean it. I wanna marry her when I'm older."

Gavin nodded dolefully. "I know."

Conor pucked him on the shoulder and let his hand lie there. "Here, it was fun. We both learned something. You'll find someone who doesn't have a girlfriend one of these days."

Gavin stood still for a moment. He covered Conor's hand with his own and squeezed it. Then, he sprang away, saying, "Give us a bell if she lets you live and I'll drop this fella back over." He gently arranged the duck in his basket, swung a leg across the bike, and cycled off.

Conor watched him go. When he finally lost sight of him, he turned and began the trek to Linda's house.

* * *

Siobhán shifted Star to her hip and gave Conor a filthy look. "Fuck off. She's not speaking to you."

"Aw, c'mon, Siobhán."

"That night me and Jock went to the Bowery and that headcase leaped out in front of us sayin' all sorts, I _knew_ it wasn't a coincidence." She jabbed Conor with a long-nailed index finger. "You tipped him off, didn't you?"

Conor knew better than to deny it. "Siobhán, I didn't do it to be a prick, I swear to God. He wanted to have Jock back as a friend."

"He appeared out of nowhere and started roaring at us! We thought we were about to get stabbed!"

"He gets no points for execution," Conor acknowledged. "It's just that he was lonely."

Siobhán sneered at him. "And you decided to fix that yourself, you did?"

Conor felt like hopping his head off the doorframe. At that moment, a voice came from the top of the stairs: "Siobhán, let him in." It was Linda.

Siobhán glanced up. "Lin, no. He's after breaking your heart."

"My heart is _fine,"_ Linda snapped. She descended the stairs and took Star off her mother. "Here, go out and see if Jock's alright. He's after having a shock."

Siobhán scowled at her. "If you want rid of me, fuckin' say so and don't be making excuses. And give me back my baby!"

"Alright. I want rid of you. Take Star to see her daddy." Linda thrust the nonplussed infant back into her mother's arms. Siobhán growled like a cat, shoved Conor out of the way, and strode up the path. Linda caught him before he toppled and reeled him into the house.

"Sorry about that," she said, closing the door. "She can be protective of me."

"She's got every right to be." Conor rubbed the back of his head. "Linda, I'm - I'm so sorry. I wish I could take it all back."

"Do you, though?" Linda turned and went into the kitchen. Conor trailed after her.

"Of course I do. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"If that's true -" she swallowed - "then why did you - you know - with him?"

He clambered up onto one of the island stools. She arranged herself with her back to the sink, observing him, her eyes inky with hurt. "I don't _know,"_ he said. "I wish I could explain it in a way that makes sense." He traced the woodgrain on the counter to avoid looking at her face. "Maybe it was a part of myself that I was ignoring without knowing it."

"So you're bisexual." Linda did not sound impressed. 

"Maybe? I dunno. It's not like I'm all the time panting after other guys, is it?"

Now Linda glanced away. "You sort of used to be into Jock, though."

Conor reared back. "Lin, no. No way. He's like a brother to me."

"I don't mean right now. I mean back a while ago. Even before we all knew each other properly, I used to think that you were a bit overdevoted to him."

Conor frowned at his hands. Linda came around the island to stand beside him. She put a hand on his shoulder.

"Tell me the truth: was this whole thing a subconscious dig at me for going away to college?"

"No. I swear, Linda. I was a bit upset about it, sure, but....look, one night I lied to Jock and pretended I'd gone to talk about it with you, and that I was alright with it, to hide that I'd met with Gavin. And I realised after that I actually was alright with it, after all." He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "You're the smartest person I know, and you need to show the whole world what you can do. And I _know_ you'll get the points you need for the course. You'll get twice as many. I can't stop you from leaving, and I don't want to, either. I'm so proud of you all the time."

Linda's eyes swam. She blinked hard and said, "But why did you do this, then?"

"Because I'm a fuckin' idiot, Linda."

"No, you're not. Don't talk like that about yourself."

"Okay, but you have to admit, I have a habit of messing things up. I hurt you, and I hurt Jock. I shouldn't have done it, and if I lose you over this, it's probably what I deserve."

Linda walked back around and stared out the window. She kept flexing her fingers in agitation. "Conor, you don't understand. Is Gavin who you want? Am I making you unhappy? If this is who you are...."

"God, Linda." Conor slid off the stool and hurried around to her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and said into her shoulderblade, "I want _you."_ He thought for a moment. "Alright. So maybe I like guys and wasn't acknowledging it to myself. Fine. It's out in the open now. I like girls and a couple of boys, now and then. None of that matters, though, because I love you. I absolutely adore you, Linda. I want you all to myself for the rest of my life. No-one else. And you make me happy every day just be being with me."

For a moment, they were still. Then, she turned herself around awkwardly in his arms and enfolded him into herself.

"Alright. I forgive you." She kissed the top of his head. "No more shifting other guys. We're even, now."

Conor laughed weakly and closed his eyes, feeling completely at home for the first time in weeks.

* * *

"Beautiful bloody day for it all the same, lads." 

Billy Murphy - the real one - shoved his hands into his pockets and gazed at the other wedding guests with an air of general satisfaction, as though he had personally arranged the September summer for Mairéad's benefit. 

"Who invited you, Billy?" Jock asked. 

Billy leered. "No-one invites me anywhere. I just hear there's something going on and turn up. It's either call the guards and ruin the event, or let me stay."

"Half the force is already here," Conor pointed out. "It looks like they're raiding the church."

"I'd say the priest has access to the top-shelf stuff," Jock murmured into his ear. "An idea for our next scheme, wha? Get Father Cuddihy onboard."

Conor smirked at him. They lounged against the low churchyard wall, admiring Mairéad as she posed for photos on the steps with Sgt. Healy. Jock nudged him.

"Here, this is gonna put some fuckin' spanner in the works. Healy's your dad now. You're a guard's son. You can't be getting into trouble with the fuzz. You're Fuzz Jr., like."

"Well, if that's true, you're Fuzz Jr.'s brother."

Jock ducked his head and cackled. At that moment, someone behind them said, "Story, boys."

They both jumped and spun around. There was Gavin, standing in the field, looking a little uncertain. 

"What do you want, Madigan?" Jock wasn't delighted, but he wasn't strangling the intruder, either. This was great progress.

Gavin scratched the side of his neck. "Ah, I just wanted to say I was sorry, Jock."

"For stealing my friend?"

"For lots of things. All the shit I did. It wasn't right."

"Oh." There was a pause. Gavin turned to go; then Jock said, "Actually, I wanted to apologise, too."

Gavin craned his head around. "What?"

Jock shrugged. "I shouldn't've cut you off the way I did. If you're ever in need of someone to hang out with...." He let it trail off. 

"Really?" Gavin's eyes were wide.

"Yeah."

"That'd be sound out." Gavin gave them both a smile of pure pleasure. He looked almost human. Conor had to look intently at his shoe. "Well, I'll see ye. Give my congratulations to the happy couple." So saying, he bounded off like a hare.

"Why'd you say that?" Conor complained. "It'd be awkward."

Jock grinned. "Brought it on yourself." He looked around. "Here, Siobhán is looking for us."

Siobhán appeared, jogging Star. "Yere mam looks gorgeous."

"How's Linda doing?" Conor asked.

"She likes it up there so far. She said to tell you -" she pointed at Conor - "to tell Mairéad congratulations." She paused, and gave him a cool look. "I still don't know about her takin' you back."

"Jesus, Siobhán," Jock hissed.

But Siobhán was laughing. "I'm joking! Conor, you're a fuckin' moron, but you're _her_ moron. She'll never be rid of you." 

Jock took Star and grinned over his shoulder. "What'd I tell ya, Con? You pair are a lock."

Conor smiled and ducked his head. Mairéad called them; she wanted them all in the next photo. Jock threw an arm around Conor's shoulder, and together they made their way across the churchyard, their shadows stretched behind them in the setting sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas to the four people who read this! Leave a comment to let me know I'm not alone! This was actually a lot of fun to write, but I'm going a little more mainstream next time. I hope Santy is good to ye!


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